Force of nature
by absurdvampmuse
Summary: Max/Liz one parter. Max and Liz have a conversation at The Crashdown somewhere at the very start of the season. /"My life has always been about protecting others. Michael. Isobel." She dipped her fries in the ketchup, pausing for a beat as she spoke, "My life has been about escaping others, taking the easy road I guess." "And now our roads have crossed, once again."/


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the right to the TV show. I am merely borrowing them. **

This is my first attempt at a Roswell, New Mexico piece of fanfiction. I have written fanfiction for the original series, but these characters are very different. I hope I did them justice on my first attempt and that you enjoy reading my take. Please leave behind your thoughts? As well as suggestions for some good stories in this fandom?

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**Force of Nature**

"…_and it's not easy but I'll draw my knife for you again."_

Liz Ortecho had always been like a sandcastle, there for the moment and gone within the next. Yet she was also nothing like that temporary structure of sand because sandcastles were ultimately destroyed by forces of nature, or underneath people's feet.

Whereas the dark-haired woman was a force of nature herself and rarely let people close enough so they couldn't inflict damage of any kind.

Where she was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, Max Evans was the calm and quiet that occurred directly after devastation had hit. The clearing up of a dark sky, a chance to catch your breath, for her to pause momentarily. He was the scent that remained after, the memory while she was the rainstorm itself.

Out of sight, out of mind was how the saying went. Still, they were never far from one another's heart, always lingering in the back of each other's mind like a colored cord tied around one's wrist to trigger a memory. However, it was true that the closer they came, the more they felt the pull. From a faint tug to the direct pull of a magnet finding its other half. Neither one of them had ever voiced it out loud, being of the belief that if you would speak it you would actualize it and put it out there. Others had always noticed and had their thoughts about it, but Max and Liz, respectively, had always kept it from one another.

But now they were in the same place again, within sight of one another. They couldn't keep away from one another, like fireflies being drawn to the light or how the moon needed to make its appearance in the night sky. It was how things were supposed to be, how things fit. How they fit.

That was why it was expected, or foreseen as Maria Deluca would say when Max stepped through the diner door that evening. Clothes casually civilian yet he still stood out, like he didn't quite belong on this earth. And his hair seemingly unbrushed like he didn't care when he really did so much.

Liz had already claimed a booth, chewing on a ballpoint that wrote in some ridiculous neon color courtesy of Maria while her eyes were scanning a page in front of her. Max thought twice about it for a second or two but arrived at the table at the same time the waitress did with Liz's order of coke and French fries.

"Thanks, Cass," Liz mumbled without looking up, her free hand already reaching for some fries. She didn't look up until Max had already taken a seat across from her. "Maximillian," she acknowledged, chin tilting up just a little so her eyes could brush against his. "Want some fries?" she pushed the plate towards him, temporarily dropping her pen. "I know the owner."

When he didn't reach for the fries, she shrugged while unceremoniously putting a handful of fries in her mouth and picking up her pen again. "You don't know what you're missing."

He held his tongue at her response, wondering if she purposely added the double meaning or if it was something more he was reading into her words. She had always been known to be direct while he was good at holding back. "How have you been?" he finally settled on the safe question.

"Same old same old. Not a lot has changed since the last time we ran into each other."

Max tapped his index and middle finger against the table a couple of times. "How are you doing, really? After…" He cleared his throat, causing her to glance back up at him. "I heard about the broken engagement."

"You mean me running from my fiance just like I ran from this place after Rosa died?" Liz dropped her pen on the stack of papers in front of her. "Yeah, I know what people are saying about me. And that's exactly one of the reasons why I left." She rested her chin on top of her knuckles as she now focused all of her attention on the man across from her. "Do you want to know what people wonder about you? Max Evans, such an outstanding and dutiful citizen, why isn't he in a committed relationship and settling for sex with his colleague."

"Firstly, her name is Cameron," Max interjected. "Secondly is that what people are wondering or what you are wondering? And lastly, since when do you go to town gossip as your source of factual information?"

"Well, isn't it factual?" Liz challenged. "What they're saying about me is true, so…" she threw her hands in the air.

"Why does it matter? It's my business isn't it," he countered adeptly. "Is it because you're feeling any kind of negative emotion towards that tidbit of truth?"

"Are you seriously asking me whether I'm jealous of you and Cameron getting down and dirty because I'm not really the jealous type and if you're intent of talking about it is to hurt me then—"

"No," Max stopped her train of thought forcibly, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. "I hate the thought if it hurting you, of me hurting you. Of you being hurt or experience any kind of pain. It's always been like that," he added as a form of explanation.

"I always thought you were sensitive and you still are, but considering the nature of your abilities, it makes sense. It's in your DNA, well so to speak." Liz could no longer hide the smile that had been waiting to break through. She reached for more fries while simultaneously grabbing the bottle of ketchup, needing something to keep her hands busy. She had always been good at keeping up appearances, but Max spotted the cracks, knowing where to poke, prod and pry to get under her skin but never needing to. Instead, she let him slip right in, offering only the slightest of pushback.

"My life has always been about protecting others. Michael. Isobel."

She dipped her fries in the ketchup, pausing for a beat as she spoke, "My life has been about escaping others, taking the easy road I guess."

"And now our roads have crossed, once again."

A handful of emotions crossed over her face, yet none of them left any marks behind for him to latch onto and read. "Sometimes I feel like no matter what we do, we find ourselves here." She finally looked up, their eyes colliding in a way that they both felt down to their bones. The underlying emotions were so close to the surface that it might have well been written on their skin in flashing neon letters.

And for a beat or two they could have sworn that even their hearts were synchronized.

"Were you happy? Did he fulfill your needs?" Max added in a slightly more dramatic tone, as it was all he could do to cover up the more serious undertone. He looked at her coke and she gave it a slight push towards him.

He lifted his coke up to his mouth, a movement Liz followed with her eyes as she perched her chin on her knuckles once more, her research having become secondary for the moment. "Is that your way of inquiring about my sex life? Because I would never ask you about yours, not that I have to.." Her eyes twinkled with mischief while his brown creased. "You and Cameron," Liz confirmed with a single nod of her head and an annoyed roll of her eyes since they had been just discussing it.

He was slightly thrown off by the strands of her dark locks that fell forwards, temporarily escaping her hold for a few seconds. "What can I say, a man has needs." He took another sip of her coke, his lips around her straw the root of a fluttering feeling in the stomach, the kind one felt right before the drop on a rollercoaster.

"You mean alien. An alien has needs."

"Say it louder won't you," he told her quietly while briefly leaning over the table towards her so he could place the coke back by her elbow.

Liz let out an amused chuckle. "Oh, come on, Max, we could be talking about immigration." She pushed her stray locks back in place behind her ear. "You know the scientist in me has so many questions about consummation between your kind and—"

He scoffed. "Why don't you just interview Cameron."

Her eyes lightened as a gleam of curiosity passed through them.

"I was kidding, Liz. Or you could do your own research, I suppose," he offhandedly added as he sat back, visibly amused by the back and forth between them.

"I don't think Michael would be up for that. Or Isobel for that matter."

Max coughed to cover a laugh. "I don't know whether I should be offended. That you wouldn't consider me."

He crossed his arms and Liz looked away, reaching over and grabbing some fries to put in her mouth. "You know, I can't believe you stayed in Roswell," she told him while sucking the salt off her fingertips.

"I can't believe you're back. You always talked about leaving, seeking out adventure."

"Temporary wrench." She shrugged. "You never talked about leaving," directing the conversation back towards him.

Max nodded his head in agreeance. "I like Roswell."

"There's irony there," Liz pointed out while waving a fry at him before dipping it in ketchup and plopping it in her mouth.

"If I leave, it won't be just Roswell. It will be this planet. Unfortunately, I don't think it will be in my lifetime, this one."

"It might. If you can get your hands on extraterrestrial technology. Stranger things have happened. After all, it is Roswell."

A smile broke through Max's features as he affectionately looked her way. "Why did you break off your engagement, Liz?"

"Many things. No reasons at all." She wiped her salty hands on her jeans. "He didn't feel… like he was the one meant for me. I was content, don't get me wrong, but not as happy as I could be. I'm fine on my own, Max. I promise," she said with a casual shrug of one shoulder. "Who's taken care of you?" she asked over her straw before gulping down some of the sugary liquid.

He tapped his fingers on the table as he answered, "Michael, Iso—"

"No, who's ever put your needs first, catered to you…" She looked away and blushed, making sure her hair covered it. Although he had already caught it. He always did, being so finetuned to every single thing that made her who she was.

"You don't seem like the type to cater to someone."

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Type implicates I am being compared. I think everybody likes being looked after, protected, cherished. I believe it's a two-way street, a give and take," she stated matter of factly. "You give a lot, Max. You always have. I hope Cameron reciprocates that or whoever your person ends up being."

"They say the person you're destined to be with is someone you've already met."

She raised one eyebrow. "What study?"

"I'd have to look it up and get back to you." His eyes glimmered playfully, and she licked her lips. "Perhaps our paths were meant to merge at this point in our lives. They have merged once before." He uncrossed his arms, raising one to signal the waitress. "Do you know the saying if something comes back to you it's meant to be."

"That's not exactly how it goes. But you know that."

"Hey, immigrant remember. I'm unfamiliar with your ways." Max dropped his hand once he got the attention of the waitress, his eyes landing back on Liz. "Are you going to stay?"

"I can always eat," were the words she said out loud but the underlying message was heard loud and clear by the both of them.

They held eye contact as the waitress came to take their order, both sets of eyes flickering with the knowledge that they would have stayed with or without the excuse of fries.


End file.
